


this debt won't go away

by autisticandrewminyard (transtwinyards)



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Aaron POV, Gen, M/M, Murder, the kevaaron is mostly a mention anyway, think of this like an extra scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 23:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11428884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transtwinyards/pseuds/autisticandrewminyard
Summary: The one thing he would like to ask Kevin, after this is all over and Kevin is buzzing with leftover adrenaline after the game and anxious to go to Columbia for a drink, is why the fuck Neil talked so much.Okay, to be fair, that was an exaggeration. But Aaron wasn’t looking to be fair. All he wanted was to milk Neil for all he was worth on this assignment, and the fucking asshole has been making comments the moment Aaron let him into the apartment so that they could prepare and it was grating on his nerves.a between-the-scenes ofappendages chapter 7





	this debt won't go away

**Author's Note:**

> title from [To Kill A King's Bloody Shirt](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P00kfamddrI)

The one thing he would like to ask Kevin, after this is all over and Kevin is buzzing with leftover adrenaline after the game and anxious to go to Columbia for a drink, is why the fuck Neil talked so much.

Okay, to be fair, that was an exaggeration. But Aaron wasn’t looking to be fair. All he wanted was to milk Neil for all he was worth on this assignment, and the fucking asshole has been making comments the moment Aaron let him into the apartment so that they could prepare and it was grating on his nerves.

“This place seems cheap for your paygrade,” Neil pointed out from the couch as he looked through the files Aaron laid out for them to look over.

Aaron bit the inside of his cheek, then shoved the shirt he was holding back into the drawers. In nothing but comfortable socks, a loose shirt, and his ripped jeans, Aaron stomped out of his room and stood in front of Neil.

Neil looked up at him, bemused, not willing to flap his tongue now that he had Aaron’s attention. Something about his blue eyes made Aaron’s skin crawl, or maybe it was the cocky smirk on his face.

(He didn’t want to think about bloodshot eyes shooting open, the sounds of Nathan gasping before Aaron slapped his mouth shut and told him to watch his own son _shoot_ him—)

“If you want to say something, Neil, say it,” Aaron gritted out. “Otherwise, no more conversation starters. We’re not on a reunion here, no getting to know each other bullshit. This thing between us is a deal. We’re going to get information out of this guy, you’re gonna hold up your end of the bargain, and then my hands are clean of you.”

Neil leaned back on the couch. Aaron felt infuriated enough to want to point out that he was resting right over a cum stain.

“I’m not looking to be annoying, Poisoner.”

“You’re acting like it.”

“I guess I’ll just… keep my comments to myself then.”

Aaron stared him down, and Neil stared back up at him. His cocky smirk was still in place, but since he was the type of man to keep his end of the bargain, he seemed keen to shut his mouth now.

With one last glance, Aaron went back to his bedroom and put some decent clothes on.

Looking at Mr. Limited Edition Sleek while he wasn’t even in his binder made him feel inappropriate. He couldn’t wait to tell Andrew about how fucking annoying his crush was. He hoped Andrew mirrored his sentiments, so help him God.

* * *

 

When Neil gave him the earplugs and ran into the construction site with Aaron’s phone, Aaron gladly shoved them into his ears. He fished his burner out from his other pocket and sent Ichirou the information by text. He had enough of Neil’s French blabbering around the moment it started.

_you work fast!! I didnt expect info til a mo. from now :D I’ll see 2 it that you get paid extra 4 it._

Aaron squinted down at the text and made a face. For a mob boss, Ichirou texted like such a teenager. He texted back, _working with neil. We talked n we decided to split 70/30._

_Ok!!_

“Who’re you texting?”

Aaron jammed the exit button, then flicked a look up at Neil just in time to see him wipe off a smudge of blood on his face.

“Your boss,” Aaron answered, standing up from the crate he was sitting on. “Need help on clean-up?”

Neil shook his head, smiling as if he hadn’t just shot and killed three people. “I handled it. Having a construction site around Columbia must be convenient, huh?”

Aaron didn’t dignify that with a response, taking the earbuds out and handing them over for his phone.

Neil took them back and started taking off his bloodied button-up. Aaron turned his head to give him some privacy.

“Oh, shit.”

“What is it?” Aaron turned to look.

Neil’s undershirt was soaked through with blood. He was frowning down at it like it was an inconvenience.

“Are you hurt?” Aaron asked.

Neil snorted, “This isn’t _my_ blood.”

“Don’t seem so proud about it, Butcher.”

Neil’s expression sobered. He gave Aaron a cold glance. Aaron stared on back.

“That’s not my title,” he said. “Call me all the insults you want, but don’t sully my reputation with that crap.”

Someone clearly had daddy issues, Aaron surmised. Well, apart from the fact that Neil seemed to have had fun seeing Nathan in his deathbed.

“You higher-ups are always so touchy with titles,” Aaron taunted. He rooted around his duffel bag to see if he had the spare shirt he packed away that one time he had to use wolfsbane. None of his containers usually spilled. “Doing away with them and calling yourselves murderers would be easier on everyone involved.”

“The ones who gave us titles are the FBI, I’m not the one continuing the culture,” Neil said.

“Ichirou seems keen on calling me whatever the hell he wants to,” Aaron pointed out, giving Neil the shirt.

Neil slipped out of his undershirt, and Aaron had to avert his eyes again. “That’s because Ichirou wants to make it official. SCPD doesn’t think twice about your kills, so I think he had to take credit of giving you your own alias.”

“That’s because I do my job right by not leaving behind a trail. Then why bother with them at all?”

He heard the familiar flick of a lighter, then caught the smell of burning blood and cotton. Aaron didn’t want to think about why he knew what it smelled like. He looked over at Neil in his old black button up, burning his undershirt.

He’d given up on that shirt a long time ago, the growth of his shoulder width making it hard for him. It seemed to suit Neil just fine.

“Why bother, huh?” Neil asked, the light of the fire making his hair look redder. Everything about this conversation—no, this situation made Aaron feel surreal. Hiding behind the tarps of a construction site, talking to a boy burning a bloodied shirt.

Neil’s gaze wasn’t cold this time, but as intense as the fire slowly creeping up towards his hand. “I suppose it’s because we and the FBI have that in common. We want to differentiate which murderer we’re catching. What better way than to pin it on how we leave bodies behind?”

They both stayed there until Neil had to drop the shirt and it eventually burned out. He let Neil step on the embers and led the way out of the site.

* * *

 

Nathaniel had pegged Aaron for an amateur the first time they met, and he supposed he should feel sorry about it. The guy had promise, he could admit. He only started acting as a prostitute to murder all those people for money around three years ago, and Nathaniel had been taught to do this since he was ten. They both started doing it around the same time, but Aaron could definitely hatch a good plan and knew when to give Nathaniel his space.

You know, for a guy without the training for it.

The coffee shop was their alibi. Nathaniel was a Math major, and Aaron was a BioChem major, and they were taking a break in the middle of their Physics project that they’d been doing at Aaron’s apartment. Nathaniel, of course, thought that this was a terrible alibi even though the likelihood of them being caught were zero to none, but he’d told Aaron he’d keep his comments to himself.

“Your fans are seeing this,” Aaron said as he took a sip of his coffee. Nathaniel was surprised he could hear the cameras snapping in the background, but then again, Nathaniel didn’t have as good hearing as he did when he was sixteen.

Three years with guns was a learning experience.

Nathaniel listened, in case he could hear any more and when he got nothing, he responded, “So they are. This was your idea of an alibi.”

“Well, according to the fact that Kevin called you, this might look worse on you. Missing a game to meet up with the twin brother of the opposing team’s goalkeeper.” Aaron’s eyes lingered on the wall clock behind him, before tuning back to Nathaniel. They were leaning into the table, and he was smiling. It was odd to see something like that on a Minyard’s face, the corner of his lips untethered from medication.

Nathaniel was smiling too, but it was second nature to smile now, to hide his ire. He knew how it might have looked. Nathaniel Wesninski, recently orphaned son, seen at a coffee shop with Aaron Minyard, twin brother of the Foxes goalkeeper on a game day, both of them smiling at each other, laughing, comfortably leaning forward over the table.

“It’ll cause quite the scandal on tabloids,” Nathaniel laughed. “Should I hold your hand? Kiss you? Play it up.”

Aaron kicked him in the shin under the table.

“Of course. What would Kevin say, right?”

“What did I say about comments? Zip it.”

Nathaniel raised his brows in amusement, then raised his cup to take a sip of his own drink. Aaron rolled his eyes, then flickered a look back over Neil's shoulder.

Nathaniel leaned back in his seat and pulled out his phone. Aaron watched this movement, but didn’t ask what it was for.

“Excuse me,” Nathaniel called out. He flagged at one of the waiters, and flashed a smile when one approached. Aaron looked thoroughly unimpressed. Nathaniel had a quick glance at the waiter’s name tag, and acted fast.

“Hey, do you mind if you take our photo, Eric?” Nathaniel extended his phone. Behind him, the conversations started buzzing. Nathaniel was careful not to glance too much at Aaron.

“Sure,” Eric agreed.

He held the phone up and counted down for them. Aaron put a hand out to push at Nathaniel’s cheek. The phone clicked.

Nathaniel thanked Eric, then looked at the photo. In the corner of the photo he noticed the reporter by the end of the street. Then, he looked at him and Aaron in the picture.

“Aw, you didn’t even smile,” Nathaniel teased. Aaron hushed him with a hand.

Nathaniel, finding nothing else to do, looked down the road, and waved at the reporter down the street.

They fled quickly after having been caught.

“That’s a horrible alibi,” Aaron stated, glancing down as Nathaniel uploaded the photo to his Instagram account.

“Your act is a horrible alibi. Let’s go back to your apartment, I need a shower. I think I can still feel blood against my side.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, then led them out of the coffee shop together.

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
